One Last Step
by Puldoh
Summary: Thoughts, emotions, feelings, all seem to wrap out in moments. Moments that seem to be filled with nothing. When you can't feel, when there doesn't seem to be anything that can make you happy. You wrap it all up, and take one last step...


He sat on his bed, staring around his room. His posters hung with such care didn't seem to make him happy any more. His figurines stacked neatly around his room, on little shelves he put up in certain places, making it seem to be organized and neat, were lacking in it's appeal.

He frowned, his eyes straining around, trying to catch something that seem to make him happy, to evoke some sort of emotion. But he felt nothing, empty, lost.

He sighed deeply, getting up and walking to his closet, opening the hidden closet that was organized and neat compared to the messiness on his floor around. Scattered clothes, books, and toys trying to convey the image of a typical teenager.

He sighed, glancing around tiredly. He rubbed his face for a moment, hand shaking slightly as he tried to fight against the urges he had been feeling lately. He pulled out some garbage bags, papers and boxes he had stored inside. Quietly, he started picking up his figurines, wrapping them carefully, boxing them, one by one.

Twenty minutes later, all his figurines and statues he once cherished and dusted faithfully every day, now were boxed up neatly, and stacked into his closet.

He walked around his room, picking up broken toys, empty bottles and cans, papers he didn't need, and continued to gather the garbage.

When he was done with that, he saw the only things remaining were his comics and books, his ninja gear, and he slowly gathered them up, putting them in their rightful places. He gave a sad smile when he found his old teddy bear. He placed it on top his dresser, and put his gear away. Stacked his books and organized his comics and gently boxed them all up as well.

When he was done, he wrote on the box of comics, 'For Raphie' and walked to the box full of his novels and textbooks, writing, 'For Donnie.'

Glancing at his stack of figurines, he knew he would give them to Leo, and put his name on the box. He sighed, pulling out his sketch books, flipping through the pages, each one displaying emotions he felt once, seemingly so long ago.

He gently pulled out the sketches of his recent nightmares and memories, and placed them to the side. He left his nice sketches, small poetry written within some of the pictures. He placed it on his desk, putting a sticky note on them, writing it was his' fathers' now.

He glanced around his now cleaned and seemingly empty room, not even feeling the sadness he wished he could feel. He knew what he was going to do.

Picking up the large stack of sketches he had been drawing since he returned, he walked from his room, noticing how quiet the lair seemed early in the morning. He stared at the pictures, suddenly feeling a reluctance to let them go.

His hand faltered for a brief moment, and Mikey felt this intense wave of sadness, fear and a gauntlet of emotions in that brief moment, before he let the papers and sketches fall from his hands, and into the pool of water.

He watched them drift down, slowly, in the air, almost screaming for him to snag them out of the air before they hit, but he didn't.

He watched them hit the water, several of the pictures started to break apart, fade. He walked away.

He left.

He didn't know where he was heading, but he knew he had to. He felt this need to run now, and so he did.

He ran for hours it seem to him, and he suddenly started to cry, standing at the edge of a building, looking around the city's dawning light. The skyscraper was over 20 stories, and he had barely managed to make it there, thankful he did. He glanced around the city, seeing the start of crime, so early in the morning.

He glanced around with deadened eyes as the world seem to come alive, voices, screams, cars, and the beat of a city waking.

He felt his own heartbeat, slowing down, as he stood at the edge of the building, glancing over. He felt flashes of memories start to flicker in his mind.

Memories or torture flickered through his mind, of pain and anguish. He felt guilt, shame, indescribable feelings of disgust and uncleanliness. He frowned, one foot out; finally wanting the sweet release he had been wanting since he was rescued.

He didn't count on the next moment.

A hand on his arm.

Tugging backwards, wrapping around him, voices crying, "Don't do it Mikey!"

He didn't know what to feel at that instance, just knew that it all locked up once again. He felt dead, even if he didn't fall. He closed his eyes, blocking all sounds from his crying brothers. He couldn't even feel remorse in that instance. He just felt empty.

He winced when he felt them carrying him, like he was injured. He still was, and probably would always be, but they didn't know that. He watched with blank eyes as they kept saying they loved him, that they needed him. That they wanted to help.

The old part of him would have laughed, but now, right now, he didn't feel anything. He felt like a stranger in a family he had loved once. But even now, his emotions were locked up once again. He didn't know what to do.

He saw Father's saddened look when he came into the lair, gently pulled along with his brothers. He was forced to sit down, and given a cup of tea. He frowned, sniffing at it, smelling the decoction of sleep and rest. He put it down, refusing the drugged tea. Mikey watched as Splinter suddenly returned with his sketches he threw in the water. He tensed up, showing images he saw in his mind that found it's way to papers.

He could sense their voices, but he refused to listen. He closed his eyes again, just wishing for once, the pain would go away. The empty, hollowed pain that seem to be where his heart is, and as he listened to his family attempting to talk to him.

He wished he had been able to take that last step. One more step...

He finally opened his eyes, the pain they saw was beyond them, and Mikey thought to himself,

'One last step,' as a single tear fell down his cheek...

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><p><strong>AN: okay, totally no idea where I got this, I was feeling depressed and upset, so I just wrote it ten minutes ago. Not even sure I will keep going but if you think its good enough, lemme know, I'll try another chapter.**

**Peace all.**


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